Heartstrings

by Marilee Boekweg

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Monday morning Eroica awoke with a panic. Her senior recital was Friday evening. Only five days left. She had memorized every crescendo, ritardando, and staccato, and everything in between, and was ready to turn it all into music. But she was so nervous. And that’s what got her every time. She played wonderfully in the practice room, but when performing, everything was so different. The stage lights were overpowering, and the audience could be so cold and impersonal.

  When Eroica was younger, she had talked to her father about her stage fright. His answer was that she needed more experience performing. Consequently, he created more performance opportunities for her. It did help, and she was no longer lacking in experience. But she was still nervous. She felt that so much was expected of her. She had read books and gone to seminars, but nothing helped. She had prayed and prayed, which did help, but she knew that something wasn’t quite right.

  Eroica slumped out of bed and went to the piano. She closed her eyes and envisioned herself on stage, playing each piece of music on her program, from beginning to end. When she had finished this mind exercise, she was late for her first class. But this week she didn’t care. Her rehearsal schedule was all that she was going to focus on. On this day she had an extra lesson with Dr. Fife. Tuesday and Wednesday she had rehearsal time in the concert hall. Thursday she practiced with the orchestra, also in the concert hall. And Friday was her performance.

  When Eroica got to her first class, all that she could think about was getting into a practice room. She didn’t hear a word the teacher was saying about the string bass. Realizing that she wasn’t going to accomplish anything in her classes, she skipped the rest of them, and found an empty practice room.

  By the time she met with Dr. Fife, she was so tense that she was making mistakes she had never made before. Dr. Fife knew she could play better than she was. He suggested that she go to the school gym and do some form of physical exercise. It might help her to relax. Everyone had a suggestion, yet still she struggled with stage fright.

  Eroica packed up her music and went to the gym. In the past, swimming had helped, so she decided to try that again. As she swam laps back and forth, the repetition began to work on her, and she began to calm down. But she wasn’t going to be able to go swimming every time she became nervous. Eroica laughed inwardly as she envisioned herself rushing to the pool during intermission. She was going to have to come up with something better.

  The next night Eroica managed to get through her practice time in the concert hall well enough. However, she had asked the stage manager to lock all the doors so she could keep everyone out. Wednesday was her last night to put all of her hard work together. She was out of time. Practicing with the orchestra was next. And she needed to be ready. But she couldn’t make the Heinrich Schelling Concerto sound the way that she wanted it to. It was brilliant when she heard it in Germany. She wanted it to be brilliant now, but she was afraid of it.

  Alone in the concert hall, Eroica came to a horrible realization. This concerto that she once thought was so beautiful and exciting had now become terrible and terrifying. She just couldn’t play it. Eroica’s mind raced over and over with the thought. Her breathing came short and quick. Feeling that she needed to hold onto something, she reached into her bag and pulled out her Book of Mormon. It was old and worn and well-marked. Eroica hugged it to herself, put her head down on the piano, and prayed with all her heart.

  “Eroica, are you all right?” Mark was by her side. He put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her up so that he could see her face. It had gone white, and she was shaking.

  “You need to take a few deep breaths,” he said, not waiting for her to answer. “Give me your hands. They feel like ice.”

  He began to rub her hands between his. “Are you nervous about your recital?”

  Eroica could only nod. Mark continued to talk to her until her breathing slowed down and her eyes lost their terrified look.

  “Is this your Book of Mormon?” he asked at length. “Do you mind if I look through it?”

  Eroica gave it to him. It was the only Book of Mormon she had ever had. Joannie had given it to her when she had first asked about Joannie’s religion. Through the years, Eroica had written her thoughts and feelings in the margins. It was like a journal to her. But she handed it to Mark anyway. In her heart she knew that she could always trust him.

  He opened it to 2 Nephi 22:2, and read out loud, “Behold, God is my salvation; I will trust, and not be afraid; for the Lord JEHOVAH is my strength and my salvation.”

  Mark put the book down and once again picked up her hands. “Have you always had a problem with being nervous?”

  “Always,” she managed to answer.

  “Have you ever been given a priesthood blessing for it?”

  “Blessings are meant for those who are sick.”

  “Blessings are meant for those who need special help. God restored his priesthood to the earth to help us. To help you, Eroica.”

  “Well, my father is not a member of the Church.”

  “I know that, and I’m very sorry about it. Has anyone ever given you a priesthood blessing?”

  “No.”

  Mark paused. “Would you like me to give you one?”

  “I think that is what I have been praying for. I just didn’t realize it.”

  “Your full name is Eroica Hamilton?”

  “Yes.”

  So Mark placed his hands on her head and gave her a priesthood blessing, right in the middle of the concert hall where she would be performing in two days.

  Eroica became as calm as a night with no wind. She knew that if she put her trust in God instead of her own abilities, she could hold on to this new feeling. It was such a relief to have an answer to her prayers.

  “It might be a good idea for you to get away from a piano for a few hours. It might help clear your thoughts,” suggested Mark.

  “I am definitely done for the day. I don’t even think I could play On Top Of Old Smokey right now.”

  “I remember learning that piece. I think I was twelve years old at the time.”

  “I was three.”

  “Then you should be able to play it backwards and in your sleep,” he laughed.

  “I think I do. Every night. I sleepwalk to my piano and that is just what I play.”

  “You’ll have to play it for me sometime. But not tonight. Would you like a ride home? I imagine that you didn’t drive.”

  “It’s so nice to get out of the practice rooms and smell the fresh air. I like walking.”

  “Then how about going on a walk with me?” he asked.

  “That sounds wonderful. You lead the way.”

  After depositing their books and things in his car, Mark took Eroica’s hand and walked towards the Provo Temple.

  “Twilight is my favorite time to be outside,” Eroica said. “Twilight smells good.”

  “I didn’t know it had a smell.”

  “To me it does. And it has a promise. A promise that good things are going to happen.”

  “Good things like what?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. Just simple things. Like closing your theory book and knowing that you are ready for the next day’s test. Or putting your music away and knowing that your teacher is going to be excited with how fast you memorized a solo.”

  “Or like going for a walk with a friend at the end of a tough day.”

  “Yes. That’s what twilight means to me.”

  “I like your twilight. Thanks for letting me share it with you.”

  Mark drove Eroica home, and walked her to her front door. “Don’t stay up all night worrying,” he said.

  “I won’t. I promise.” Eroica paused before going in. “How did you get into the concert hall, anyway? The stage manager assured me that the doors were all locked.”

  “Sean, the stage manager, and I went to the sa
me mission. We were never companions. We both had native companions. But we were in the same apartment for a long time. We got to know each other pretty well.”

  “You seem to know everyone.”

  “No, not everyone,” he protested. “But I did know that you were practicing in there for your recital. I just wanted to see how you were doing.”

  “Well, you were an answer to my prayers. Thank you for everything you did for me tonight.”

  “I didn’t do much. Your testimony and your faith are helping you through this. You are stronger than you realize. Just remember that.” Mark reached up a hand and brushed a wisp of hair from her cheek. “I’m just glad that we are friends, Eroica. It means a lot to me.”

  Eroica didn’t want to go in. She wanted to stay in this moment forever. “Let’s always be friends, Mark, okay?”

  “Okay,” he agreed.

  When Eroica knelt at her bedside that evening, her prayer was one of gratitude for all her blessings. That night she slept like a child with no responsibilities, and no senior recital to perform.

  “I knew I was choosing the right material for you, Eroica. This dress is going to look fabulous on stage.”

  Eroica was an hour away from her senior recital. Tilly had brought the dress over, and was making sure that everything about it was perfect. And AnnaMaria was doing Eroica’s hair. She had pulled part of it up into a bun, and was curling the rest to hang down her back.

  “This is so exciting,” said AnnaMaria as she pinned rhinestones into Eroica’s hair. “I just wish our parents could have been here for it. We’ll have to send them a recording.”

  Eroica let AnnaMaria and Tilly rattle on without her. She was focusing on being calm. The rehearsal with the orchestra had gone well, and Eroica was concentrating on that. If she could play the Heinrich Schelling Concerto as well as she did the night before, she would feel great about her recital.

  “It’s time to go, Eroica,” AnnaMaria said, putting the final pin into Eroica’s hair.

  “Don’t forget your music,” cried Tilly as they began to leave.

  Eroica stopped and looked around the room once more. She saw her piano with sheets of music cluttering it, her Book of Mormon left on the couch and opened to 2 Nephi 22:2, a picture of the Salt Lake Temple taped next to her front door to remind her of her goals each day before she left for school.

  “I don’t need to take any music,” Eroica stated confidently. “Tonight I am going to remember everything.” And with that she walked through the door on her way to her last college recital.

  Backstage Eroica slowly paced up and down in the semidarkness. AnnaMaria and John were in the audience with Tilly and Jem. Harmony and Alexandra had said they would be there with their fiancés. And she was sure that Mark was there somewhere. So at least a handful of people would clap for her.

  The clock on the wall ticked off the minutes: 7:29, 7:30, 7:31. The stage manager asked her if she were ready. She nodded, the lights went down, someone went on stage to say a prayer, and it was her turn.

  Eroica said one final, silent prayer, and walked on stage. She bowed amid a full house of clapping and sat down at the piano. At first her performing was mechanical. She started off with a piece by Chopin that took all of her technical ability. As the measures went by, Eroica was able to focus on what needed to be done. She forgot about the world around herself, and was once again back in the practice room.

  And so she proceeded through her other pieces: Schubert, Ravel, Beethoven. Before she realized it, it was time for intermission.

  Eroica went to the performers’ waiting room and again pace up and down. She had asked the stage manager to let her be in there by herself while the orchestra set up and tuned. She would be fine as long as she didn’t have to talk to anyone or answer any questions about whether she was nervous. What kind of a question is that to ask someone who is about to perform a very demanding concerto in front of a houseful of people, anyway?

  All too soon the conductor came in.

  “We’re ready if you are,” he smiled at her. “You are playing superbly. I just had one quick question.” He pulled out the score to the Schelling Concerto and opened it to somewhere in the middle. “This tricky section right here. Do you want the orchestra to ease up a bit so you have more time to get all those notes in?”

  It was the section that Eroica had always struggled with. She could play it correctly most of the time. But no one knew what would happen during a performance. She got through it okay in rehearsal, but it could have been better.

  “No,” Eroica stated. “Let’s do it in tempo, the way that it’s supposed to be. It’ll be fine.”

  “That’s great. Good for you, Eroica. Shall we go?”

  He held out his arm for her, she took it, and back on stage she went.

  This was the moment that Eroica had been dreaming about since she left Germany. A chance to perform the Heinrich Schelling Concerto with an orchestra. It was actually happening.

  As Eroica played, the music filled the concert hall and took on a life of its own. It was exciting and vibrant and everything that she wanted it to be. All of her practicing was coming together in this one moment on stage. She had made it through the difficult section before she knew it. It was like water rushing down a raging river. It wasn’t going to turn back, and neither was she. Her fingers found each note in that whitewater of music, until they reached the calm at the end.

  Then there was clapping and bowing and shaking hands with the conductor and the concertmaster. Someone handed her a huge bouquet of long-stemmed red roses, more clapping, more bowing, and she was off stage. And it was over.

  Backstage was complete chaos. Everyone wanted to congratulate her. Eroica was so relieved to be finished with the whole thing that she didn’t care what happened next.

  “You were right to keep that section in tempo, Eroica,” the conductor came up to her. “Excellent job. Excellent job.”

  AnnaMaria and John were there, but AnnaMaria was busy talking to Dr. Fife. The crowd began to disperse, and Eroica wondered if Mark would come backstage. Just then she saw him coming towards her.

  “Mark, I did it. I really did it,” she cried.

  Before she knew it, Mark had picked her up and was spinning around with her in his arms.

  “I always knew you would be brilliant,” he said. “And tonight you were.”

  As he set her back down, Eroica caught sight of Allisun. She hadn’t noticed her before. All she had seen was Mark. He was all that she was looking for.

  “Congratulations, Eroica,” Allisun said. “You were wonderful. I was so impressed. And you looked absolutely beautiful.”

  “Oh, Allisun, thank you. I’m so glad that it’s over. I never want to do that again. Once in a lifetime is plenty for me.”

  “Allisun was chosen to play in the freshman concerto winners’ performance next week. They are playing Vivaldi’s Four Seasons, and Allisun is playing one of the movements.”

  “I am going to play the presto movement from the summer concerto. And I am so nervous.”

  “Oh you are not,” Mark retorted. “You love being center stage, and you know it.”

  “Okay, so I’m not that nervous,” she laughed. “But I feel like I’m supposed to be.”

  “Don’t wish that on yourself,” said Eroica. “You’ll regret it.”

  “Allisun won’t regret anything, as long as she can display herself in a pretty dress,” Mark continued.

  “You are so terrible,” Allisun laughed, unaffected by his comments. “There’s Angela. She had to play oboe in the orchestra tonight, but she’s going home for the weekend. She said she’d give me a ride home, so you don’t have to, Mark. So, goodbye. You did a great job tonight, Eroica.”

  She turned and disappeared.

  “Allisun certainly is flighty,” Mark stated as he watched her go.

  “She’s just young, and you
are too hard on her. I like Allisun. She makes everyone feel as if they were her best friend. That’s a wonderful quality.”

  “Oh, don’t misunderstand me. Allisun is a good girl. She knows how I feel about her.”

  Eroica was left to wonder about that statement as AnnaMaria, John, Tilly, and Jem finally made their way to her.

  “I think we are the last ones left in the building, so we can go now,” John laughed. “Should we all go out to dinner? Eroica most likely hasn’t eaten in days.”

  “That sounds like a great idea,” Jem chimed in.

  “Come with us, Mark,” John invited. “I know Eroica doesn’t like tagging along with old married couples.”

  “Okay,” Mark willingly agreed.

  So the six of them left the concert hall where so many memories were created. Eroica realized that this was the closest she had ever come to going on a date with Mark, and it still didn’t count as a date. After all, Mark hadn’t asked her out. John had done it all.

  When the evening was over, and Eroica had thanked her Heavenly Father for helping her to get through her senior recital, she lay in her bed for a long time, just thinking. She wasn’t thinking about her recital, though. She was thinking about Mark. Backstage, when he had held her, it was just Eroica and Mark for one wonderful moment. She could still feel his strong arms around her. She could still smell how clean he was. Was she falling in love with him?

  All of a sudden she remembered her roses. She had forgotten to put them in water, and they were still on the kitchen table. She got out of bed, put on her robe, and went back into the kitchen.

  Eroica loved flowers. She often thought that if she wasn’t a musician, she would want to be a florist. As she cut away the ribbon and wrapping so she could arrange the roses, something caught her eye. She hadn’t noticed it before. Tucked underneath all the greenery and baby’s-breath was a single yellow rose. Eroica still had a secret admirer.